Forever, Always Young
by Blue
Summary: The death of the X-Men. How will Don and Raph cope? (Good bground for ZEROHOUR.)


by Elton John

He said I want to grow up  
And look like Robert Mitchum,  
And I hope that when I'm gone,  
There'll be some say that I miss him.  
He must have been romantic,  
He must have sensed adventure,  
And I feel the steel of his strong will,  
In the frame around his picture.  
  
And he's one more arrow,  
Flying through the air,  
One more arrow lying in a shady spot somewhere,  
Where the days and nights blend into one,  
And he can always feel the sun,  
Through the soft brown earth that holds him,  
Forever, always young.  
  
He could have been a boxer,  
But the fight game seemed so dirty,  
We argued once, he knocked me down,  
And he cried when he thought he'd hurt me.  
Strictly from the old school,  
He was quiet about his pain,  
And if one in ten could be that brave,  
I would never hate again.  
  
And he's one more arrow,  
Flying through the air,  
One more arrow lying in a shady spot somewhere,  
Where the days and nights blend into one,  
And he can always feel the sun,  
Through the soft brown earth that holds him,  
Forever, always young.  
  
One more arrow,  
One more arrow,  
One more arrow,  
Forever, always young.

* * *

_Warning! This story contains some violence, cursing, and adult situations which may be inappropriate for some readers. This story is voluntarily rated PG-13 for parental guidance. Kids, do yourself a favor and ask mom or dad before you read Forever, Always Young._

# Part One: Lying in a shady spot somewhere.

_January, 2011_

Jean checked her watch again. It was almost noon. Where were they? She could hear Remy banging away in the kitchen behind her; he had refused to let her cook lunch. ("Don't worry, Chere, Gambit know how to do t'ings _right_.") It was to be a family affair, with many of the X-men and certain of their friends attending. Later, Jean and Scott could have time to themselves. Scott came in, kissed Jean, eyes hidden as usual behind his glasses. He understood her worried expression.

"Don't worry, they'll be here," he assured her. "When have they ever broken a promise to us?" He was right, of course. They were taking their van up from New York City. A big risk, but they were willing to do it so that they could be with their friends. The pair waited by the garden door. Suddenly, there was a rap at it, and the two entered, shedding layers of clothing and grinning. Scott grinned back.

"Ah, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles arrive at last!" Jean teased.

"Not so teenage any more," Donatello joked. Jean realized that he was right. They aged so gracefully, it was hard to see, but it was true; the Turtles were getting older. Let's see, sixteen years old at the wedding...That made them 32! Unbelievable! Don had confided in Jean the story of how they met their future selves. They would live for at least one hundred years, perhaps much longer. Jean had seen in Don's eyes the knowledge of the inevitable cruelty; the Turtles must watch their human and mutant friends wither and die. But she thrust the dreary thoughts aside. _Be happy,_ she told herself.

"Happy 17th anniversary!" cried Raphael, and Donatello echoed the salutation. They dropped their disguises onto nearby chairs as Jubilee entered. She, too, had aged, and she led her youngest son, Josh, by the hand.

"Hi guys. Dinner's ready. Or rather...lunch," she smiled. They followed her into the dining room, where everyone in the house was gathering. The X-men and their families sat around the huge table as Rogue and Remy, themselves newly wed, laid out the food. A warm wave of smiles and greetings met Don and Raph, and soon all were seated, talking happily.

Don found himself between Scott Summers' brother, Alex, and Raph, who was actually _smiling_ as he cradled Professor Xavier's small son. Don shot a glance at the laughing Professor. He was happy now, with his wife Erica, and Don was glad. He was a man of science and wisdom whom Don admired, and he truly deserved his happiness after all he'd done to help mutants. Mutants were a much commoner breed nowadays, but despite this fact, the Turtles still found it sadly necessary to hide themselves from a government which hated them and a public which feared them.

Don looked at Emily and Jeremy, the Summers twins, across the table. They were 16 now. Lord, he remembered 16! Things had been so different then...He had been so different. How would he change in the next 16 years?

His reverie was broken as everyone joined hands to say grace over the meal. Even Raph, who was undoubtedly an atheist, hesitantly joined the circle. Don bowed his head as Professor X began to speak of the group being together, of the anniversary, of the luscious feast spread on the immense table. Don thought of his own blessings. His friends, family...himself. He thought of all the danger he'd survived, and wondered if it was luck or God's will that he had been spared death so often.

Lunch was filled with happy conversation, and afterwards, laughter as they retired to the living room with cups of coffee to open presents. Some were homemade, some were espensive, but all were accepted joyfully from the loving givers. Raph shyly presented them with an assemblage of old and new photos of the couple in a gorgeous silver frame. One photo for each year they had known each other. The smiles and obvious pleasure of Jean were enough to make Raph turn several interesting colors and mutter, "Ah, forget about it."

With smile, Don watched as Scott unwrapped his gift. The man gasped as he beheld it, then cradled it in his hands as he held it up for all to see. It was a wooden carving depicting Scott and Jean, hand and hand. Everyone could see the love Don had poured into the homemade gift; he had spent hours getting it shaped perfectly, then smoothing and finishing it to a beautiful mahogony. It gave off a polished gleam in the chandeleir's light. And at the base, carved carefully, were the words, "Scott and Jean: Happy 17th anniversary, love, Donny." He didn't need their thank yous to see how much he'd touched them, and Don was glad. Jean and Scott meant a lot to him.

Hours later, Don rose. "It's time we left," he said with a sigh. He waved off cries of protest and apologized, "Sorry, but I want to be gone before rush hour. Less chance of being seen. C'mon, Raph." Raph, who had been holding two of Jubilee's kids, reluctantly handed over the boys to their mother and rose to his feet. The Turtles muffled themselves against human suspician and the cold, and were gone.

After their departure, the mansion began to empty quickly. The X-men had so little time between missions to get together and reminisce. But tonight, it had been arranged that all the non-X-men would stay elsewhere for the night, save Rogue and Remy's infant son, Bobby. Soon the X-men were alone.

As Wolverine went into the kitchen for beers, the Professor smiled and opened his mouth to speak. But what he was going to say could only be guessed at, because just then, a portion of the roof collapsed with a thunderous roar. No one was hurt, but Professor Xavier had been knocked from his wheelchair, and all were stunned. In a moment, the room was full of what appeared to be cybernetic soldiers. One of them stood forth with a sneer. "X-men," he began, but before he could begin his threat, Wolverine leapt and pierced armor and skull with adamantium. The soldier, apparently unharmed, tossed the man aside as if he were made of paper. As the X-men recovered, they rose to defend themselves.

In a valient defense, they held their own for a long while. But the cybersoldiers could take whatever the mutants dished out; the same couldn't be said for the X-men. As Professor X held off one, he realized that his mental powers did not work on these creatures. But why not? He had no time to think about it, because just as Storm came to his aid, the soldier shot him. One by one, the X-men followed suit, fighting and dying, struck by piercing lasers or bone-crushing fists. Jubilee found herself alone. Where was everyone? Could she be the only one left? Then, to her horror, the soldier facing her began to _grow_. He resumed his true shape, monstrous and evil, before he laughed cruelly and raised his laser to plow a gaping furrow in the floor. Jubilee only had time to think, "Omigod! It's Apoca-" before her skull was crushed by a piece of flying masonry.

The world was silent and full of rubble.

* * *

# Part 2: Where the days and nights blend into one.

"Hey! Dinner!" called Michelangelo. He hummed as he pulled a large pan of lasagna out of the oven. It felt sort of weird being back together in the old den after so many years. Leonardo and Splinter were the only ones who really lived there any more. Mike had his own apartment, Don had been living in the farmhouse, and Raph....noone was quite sure where he'd been stashing himself, and he wouldn't tell. Two opposing theories had sprung up: one was that Raph had his own sewer den in a secret location. The other was that he had moved in with Donny's weird gangster friend, Mark. Mike had always thought the former more likely; Raph was a loner after all. But Donny seemed to think that he had fallen in with GR, the group of former gang members who acted as vigilante law-enforcers. Don still did some computer stuff for them once in a while, but Raph was pretty into their head-bashing philosophy. Especially now that Casey was getting older and didn't want to kick butt as much as he used to.

Mike set the pan on a potholder on the table as his brothers began to drift in. Caset and April had wanted to come, but had already arranged to spend the weekend in California with some uncle of April's. So it was just the four Turtles and Splinter who gathered around the table, laughing and joking.

Splinter was pleased to see his sons happy. He had been disturbed when they had met the X-men and Donatello and Raphael had become so close to them and their families; it was unsettling to know that so many humans were privy to their secret. But even cautious Leonardo had pointed out, "They're vigilante mutants. Their secret is just as big as ours." Splinter had instinctively believed that trouble would come of it, but this was one of the few times he was happy to be proven wrong. He smiled as he looked around at his little family; even Raph had dropped his moody attitude and was smiling and chatting.

Splinter's mind was, for a moment, oddly darkened by thoughts of death. He tried to shut them out, but they always returned to plague him. He knew that his "sons" would live a long time, but in their visit to the future, he discovered that one hundred years in the future, he would be dead. Not that he wished to live so long. He had already lived a very long while, much longer than either human or rodent would have expected to live. And now, how long could he expect to live? He was wise and never showed a fear of death, but when a simple rat had gained human reason and capabilities, he had also gained human flaws. One of these was the persistant fear of death. Unreasonable, for death was nothing to fear, but despite his attempts to put it aside, it remained always with him. Fear was the price he paid for intelligence. But now was not the time for such gloomy thoughts. Splinter smiled and sipped his tea, banishing thoughts of mortality.

*-----*-----*

Gambit came awake with a jerk. He was lying crumpled against the living room's far wall, where the final blast had thrown him. He tried to get up and almost managed before he had to sink to the ground with his head between his knees. His head pounded and when he touched his temple, his hand came away bloody. Finally, he rose on wobbly legs and stood still, his head spinning. Suddenly, he remembered what had happened. His wife. His child. His team. What had happened to them?

He staggered throught the room, tripping over rubble and broken furniture. He saw a flash of red hair. _Rogue!_ He hurried to her side as best he could. Her broken body was half buried in rubble. Gambit sobbed as he sought her pulse. No breath. No pulse. No life. "Oh, no," he moaned. Tears ran down his cheeks as he closed her eyelids. He gazed about. How could he hope to find all his friends beneath the rubble? With a start, he remembered his infant son, not yet a year old, lying in his crib in the other win of the house. Remy somehow dragged himself what seemed like miles through the mansion. To his profound relief and joy, the boy was still in his crib; crying, hungry, but alive. Thank God the living room was in the opposite wing. Other wise, the child would be dead. It was a small blessing, but now the child was all Remy had left.

Gambit was filled with fear as he never had been before. Would they come back? Did they know he was still alive? _What if they went after the team's families? His son was in danger!_ Gambit wrapped him tightly in a heavy blanket and held him against his chest. He fled the house and its grisly wreckage.

*-----*-----*

Don grinned at Mike and took another bite of lasagna. "How is it?" Mike asked anxiously.

"As if you need to ask!" teased Raph.

"It's great, Mike," Don assured his friend. Mike's lasagna was practically world famous. Mike was a great cook, and he couldn't pick up a recipe without making it better. Don reached for a slice of the italian bread Mike had learned to make from an immigrant in Little Italy.

"Pass the cheese," said Raph. Leo sent along the grated cheese with a smirk.

"Like you need more cheese," he said.

"Yeah, Raph," Mike chimed in. "You've been trying to eat that piece of cheese for ten minutes!" They all laughed at Raphael, who was trying to wind a long string of cheese around his fork. Raph stuck his tongue out at them.

"My sons are growing up, indeed," commented Master Splinter, straight-faced. They stared at him in amazement for a moment before Mike began to giggle helplessly and they all collapsed with laughter.

"You're a natural, Master," said Mike. Splinter raised one thick eyebrow and took another bite of lasagna. Mike was happy. They didn't have occassion to sit around together and joke very often any more. Not for years.....Mike was saddened that they seemed to be growing apart. He was glad Don had decided to come and live in the city again. He missed his brother when he was so far away, in Massachussets. And it seemed that when they all got together, it was always serious....someone hurt or a mission to be done, a battle to be fought for the sake of the universe....Though it had been quieter lately, with Shredder off in the future and most of their other enemies out of sight.

But that left them with even LESS time to be together. Don drifted off to the farm to build things and study DNA, Mike spent long hours in his apartment, sketching or painting, Leo retreated into katas and devotional meditation, and Raph disappeared for days, even weeks, at a time, out on his own missions. Mike missed having everyone together all the time, even with the friction it caused. It was worth it, to be a family.

Raph was truly happy. It always cheered him to visit his friends, and especially their children. He had a soft spot for kids that he rarely bothered to hide any more. He loved to spend long hours holding the Davis boys, or Xavier's son, or Ororo's little girl. He had a lot of love that needed expression, and until he met the X-men, he could only share it with his brothers. But now, with more than a few kids around, he found it hard not to be caught up in things around the mansion. Scott was like a brother to him and Don, Jean like a sister. The children in the mansion had always called Raph "uncle" and loved him as well as they loved their own fathers. The only X-man Raph had difficulty getting along with was Wolverine. His brothers said it was because they were both so ill-tempered. But in any case, there was something about the man that just got under his skin.

*-----*-----*

Wolverine found himself lying beneath a blasted piece of the roof. With one powerful upward thrust, he shoved away the charred and battered bit of metal with a grunt. He stood and felt slightly dizzy. Examining his body he noticed only minor wounds. They would heal; his healing factor would take care of them. He took a deep breath and almost passed out from the pain. Probing with his fingers, he checked his chest. Probably a couple busted ribs. _Have to tape 'em up._

He took stock of the situation. The room was a mess. Where were the X-men? He sniffed the air. Overturning a stone in the spot his nose led him to, he found the barely recognizable corpse of Jubilee. Her head was crushed beyond recognization, her entire body crushed and bloody. It was a grisly spectacle, and Wolverine turned his head away, unable to look. His heart filled with rage. Whoever had done this to her would pay, he swore. He sniffed again. This time, the body was Jean's, lying beside Scott's in the wreckage, both corpses mangled. That was it. Wolverine turned to leave; he couldn't bear to let this go on. As he passed through the half-collapsed doorway, he paused to ease the pain in his ribs.

_Gambit!_ The scent was fresh, and it was a trail. It led up toward the stairs and out the main door. So, the Cajun was alive. Why had he rushed off in such a hurry? Where was he going? Any other time, Wolverine would have followed Gambit's trail to the end, but his mind was filled with thoughts of vengeance. He was gone from the room. God help whoever crossed his path that night.

*-----*-----*

"Man, I'm tired," groaned Don. "Must've been the drive from Massachussets." He yawned. "I'm going. Coming, Mike?" Mike looked up from his drink.

"Nah," said Mike. "In fact, I think I'll stay the night. If it's okay with you." This he directed towards Splinter and Leo.

"Of course," said Splinter.

"You know you don't have to ask, bro. What about you, Raph?"

Raph shrugged. "Dunno, maybe. Maybe I'll just go home." All of them were dying to ask where "home" was, but no one quite dared. Raph wouldn't even reveal the location to Splinter. Why? Was there really that great a need for secrecy among friends? Don stood.

"Keys?" he reminded.

"Oh, yeah," said Mike, taking them out of his belt. "Here. Just don't eat all my food, okay?" Don had only recently decided to move back into New York, and he was staying with Mike until he could find a permanant place to stay. Like Raph, he wasn't keen to move back into the den. Didn't know why. Maybe just because it wouldn't be the same. Too many years had gone by for them to go back to the way it was when they were young. They all secretly regretted it. Even Raphael could wish for those times again.

*-----*-----*

The next morning, after Don had showered, he walked into Mike's living room, moving some junk with his foot as he did. Geez, Mike was a slob! Don was a scientist, and he despised unordered chaos. Maybe he'd do Mike a favor and clean up the mess....But why bother? Mike would just mess the room up again minutes later!

There was a knock at the door. Don instinctively froze. He moved soundlessly to the peephole and checked out the guest, then relaxed. It was only Emily. He quickly opened the door and let her in. He smiled. "Hey, Em, what's up?" Then he stared at her. He saw for the first time that her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her face was red, her hair and clothing dishevelled. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching out to give her a gentle hug. She shook silently as she wept uncontrollably, occassionally making small sniffling noises. Don pulled away momentarily, unearthed a box of tissues, and handed it over.

"Thanks," she whispered. She sat down on the couch and blew her nose. Don sat beside her.

"Now, what's wrong," he said, stroking her back.

"Oh, my god," Emily sobbed. "They're dead." A cold chill ran down Don's spine. His heart froze.

"What?"

She told him slowly and carefully, through her tears, stammering and sobbing. "Mom and Dad.....The X-men.....They're all.....d-d-dead. Dead!"

* * *

# Part 3: And he can always feel the sun.

Don stood in his trenchcoat with the collar up. Alex Summers stood beside him, silently sharing his horror and sorrow as they looked at the scene before them. Police and emergency rescue workers (much too late to save the victims) moved about, shifting rubble, covering bodies, looking for a clue as to who was responsible for the atrocities they were witnessing. Don bowed his head.

"I couldn't believe it," he said quietly. "I half thought it was some kind of joke. I guess....I was sort of hoping that when I got here, nothing would be wrong." He gulped. "I just wanted Emily to be lying to me." He closed his eyes, but couldn't stop the tears from leaking out. Alex put an arm around Don's shoulder. "I want to see."

Alex looked concerned. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's not a pretty sight, to say the least."

"I know. But I think I need to." He didn't say what he was really thinking; that seeing the bodies was the only way he could really accept that his friends were dead. Alex led him through the rubble, stopping beside the first body he came to. He pulled back the blanket that had been laid over it, revealing Jubilee...or what was left of her. Don went pale and blanched. He had to turn his back so that he didn't throw up.

He rocked lightly back and forth on his heels, trying not to get sick. Alex covered up the gruesome corpse. "My God," whispered Don. "Who would do this to them?" It was one of those silly rhetorical questions you asked when there was nothing appropriate to say, and Alex just shook his head in reply. "Are they all here?"

"No," Alex said. "They can't find Gambit or Wolverine."

Don's heart beat faster. "Do you think they might have escaped?"

Alex looked away, and when he turned back to Donny, his eyes were watering. "Honestly? No, I don't think anything could've survived this." Don bowed his head. How could he deal with this? How could he survive without them? They were his friends, his family.....He had never imagined that it would end in this way. The cruel irony struck at him: in years of dangerous, suicidal missions, the X-men had seldom lost one of their own. But when it came down to it, they were murdered in their own home, seemingly helpless against whatever danger they had faced. _Why? Why does it have to be this way?_

*-----*-----*

Mike, Leo, and Splinter were all in April's apartment. They had chosen it over Mike's as a place to hang out....the chaos in Mike's place was hardly something to dwell on when you were trying to relax. They were all talking and laughing...reminiscing and telling all their adventures all over again. There was a knock at the door.

All three grew still. Splinter motioned to Leo to go to the door. On silent feet, he crept over and checked the peephole. Relaxing, he opened the door to let in Mark. Mark was a black-haired, green-eyed college kid with a pierced ear and a crew cut. His wide eyes showed an innocense that was not recognized by anyone who knew him well. He was an ex-gangster and former hit man for a powerful American drug lord. Mark had left his murderous habits behind, but he still did pot, and he still loved to bust heads....Only now, he was fighting to rid the city of gangsters, not the other way around. (Splinter had often worried that Raph might have picked up some bad habits from Mark, such as being addicted to pot. But Raph had denied this, and while he often glossed over certain facts, he had never told an outright lie to Master Splinter. Still, a father worried for his children, and Splinter, like many anxious dads, wished he knew more about the kind of people Raph hung out with. What scared him is that from what he'd seen, they were like those who had once been recruited for the Foot; young people without direction, only filled with hatred and anger. Like Raph.)

Now Mark looked upset and frightened, unusual emotions for him. Mark was NEVER frightened. In fact, he had always reminded Splinter of Casey Jones. But Mark suddenly blurted out, "You have to help me, man!"

"Wazzup, guy?" asked Mike, as he cleared a space on the couch for Mark, who didn't take it.

"It's Raph! It's like he's flipped out or something. He broke up his whole apartment, and I tried to stop him, so he hit me!" They all saw the purplish bruise on his jaw. Leo winced. He'd been in fights with Raph before that were much more than mere sparring. He knew how strong Raph was. "And now he's gone crazy and he's packing all his stuff up and he won't talk to me." Splinter's aged face creased with concern. What would cause such an outburst in his most dangerous and angry son? Many things could provoke Raphael, but he had seemed so happy last night when he left the sewer den.....

"Master," said Leo in a low voice. "What does it mean? Why is he so upset?"

Splinter shook his head. "I do not know, but we must find out. We will visit Raphael, if Mark is willing to take us. We must keep him from foolish action."

_Yeah_, Mike thought sarcastically. _Great plan. Like keeping the sun from rising in the east._

"Sure," said Mark. "Maybe you guys can get him to talk sense. All he'll do is mutter away in Japanese at me. I think he's cussing me out."

They heard a noise at the door and turned their focus off of Mark. Donny was standing there, trenchcoat and hat hanging limply from one hand, body slumped and sad. They could see that he had been crying; his skin was darker than usual and his kind gray eyes were bloodshot. His whole face had a look about it of a sorrow for which there was no comfort.

"My son," said Splinter. "What is wrong?"

Don laughed. It was a hollow thing, devoid of amusement and waiting to be filled up with sadness. A painful laugh. "I guess we don't have to tell Raph. He found out on his own."

"Found what out?" Leo was annoyed. He hated when his little brother spoke in riddles.

"The X-men," said Don. "They're dead." He said it flatly, without emotion. He had run out of tears to shed. Now he was drained of all energy and feeling. His friends were left gaping.

Don sank onto the couch and Mike hugged him. "I should have told him, probably. It might have been better if it came from me. But I was so upset I wasn't thinking straight, and I just wanted to get there, to see what had happened." He trailed off into silence. A few moments later, he added, "They don't know who did it. They can't find Gambit or Wolverine's bodies though." Splinter came to Don's side to embrace him, wishing he could absorb some of his pupil's grief into his own heart. Splinter knew that it was a heavy burden to bear, and he hated to see his son in pain, physical or emotional.

"He'll leave," said Leo, reaching out to touch Don's hand. "We have to stop him." Leo was right, and Splinter and Mike rose, and then Don.

Splinter automatically took the lead and the Turtles fell in behind him. "Come," he said. "Mark, you must lead us to Raphael's home."

*-----*-----*

_"Higher, Uncle Raph! Higher!" Emily squeeled. In party hats and good clothes, everyone in the mansion was celebrating the twins' fifth birthday. Raph laughed and pushed Emily's swing harder than before. Suddenly, she pushed off of the swing and fell hard to the grass._

"Oh, no!" cried Raph as he rushed to kneel beside her. "Em, I'm sorry." Emily threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. Raph carefully examined her leg. Relief flooded through him. "Just a scrape, Ems." The blood was oozing from several small cuts on her knee, but nothing was broken. Just to be sure, he lifted her to her feet. By this time, her mother, alerted to the accident, had sped across the garden.

"Emily!" Jean cried. "Are you all right?" Emily just cried.

"Just a couple scrapes. You go with mom, Em, and she'll take care of it." Raph handed the little girl over to her mother, who cuddled her in her arms as she headed off to the house. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Raph muttered to himself when they were out of hearing range. "She could have really been hurt!" Raph felt a hand on his shoulder and realized that Scott was beside him.

"Don't blame yourself, Raph. These things happen. Part of having kids," he said, smiling a tiny bit. Raph shrugged, unconvinced. "Jean and I know it was an accident. Emily isn't going to blame you either. You're her favorite 'uncle,' you know." Raph looked at Scott in surprise. He didn't know.

"Really?" he asked.

"You're a part of our family," Scott said. "She cares for you. We all do."

The sounds and sights of the past crowded into Raphael's mind. He remembered every detail of the past sixteen years of his life, called them forward and studied them. But memories were useless now. It was over. The X-men were dead.

With a flare of anger borne of sadness and depression, Raph smashed his fist into the wall of the small apartment. Over and over he pounded the wall, letting his sorrow and frustration out in one long wail of helpless Japanese cursing. He was hardly aware of the pain coursing through his hands until he slipped to the floor with exhaustion, noticing with surprise that his hands were covered with blood. His insane anger had driven Mark away from their small apartment building on the east side. Raph didn't know or care where he'd gone and if he would be back. All he could sense were the terrible grief and pain of sorrow.

In a daze, Raph found himself heading to the bathroom, wrapping his knuckles in white gauze and taping it into place. He returned to his bedroom and began once again to cast into his duffle bag the things which mattered most to him. His weapons, a couple books....Most of everything else meant nothing to him. He reflected that in the 32 years of his life, the only things he had collected worth keeping were friends; and he did not have the option of taking those with him. Sorrow rose up in his heart anew and he relieved himself of it in one great sob. Shoulders heaving, he leaned against the wall. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he felt more lonely than he had ever felt in his life.

There was a knock at his locked door. He heard the calm voice of Leo speaking. "Raph," it said. "We heard what happened. I'm sorry." So controlled, so emotionless! _Fearless leader to the rescue again, eh Leo?_ Come to stop him from doing what he had to do. Again. _He always has to interfere!_

"My son," said Splinter's quiet voice. "I understand your pain. But it will not depart if you run away. You must face your grief and your anger. Only then may you conquer it. To run from grief is to succumb to it. You cannot hide from your problems." Raph was filled with frustration. _Always flinging wisdom, eh, Master? What good can your wisdom do? Can it bring back my friends?_ Some inner part of him was shocked at the way Raph was behaving and thinking about his family, but he ignored it. He didn't want people telling him how he should cope with his feelings!

"You don't understand!" he cried. "Noone does!"

"What about me, Raph," asked Don, his voice weighted with sorrow. "I'm in the same position you are." Leo and Mike and Splinter had not known the X-men except as acquaintances. Don and Raph had been among their closest friends. Raph struggled to cry noiselessly, so that the others wouldn't know he was doing it.

"Leave me alone!" His voice was ragged with pain. "Just leave me!"

"We can't, Raph," pleaded Mike. "We need you, and we don't want you to do this to yourself." Splinter nodded with approval. Mike was unusually serious.

But nothing they said seemed to convince Raph that he should come out and face up to reality. He just screamed at them, refused to listen, cursed. When he used a four-letter word in reference to rats, Splinter's heart nearly broke, and it showed in his face. For Leo, that was the last straw. He had tried to be sympathetic, tried to understand what Raph was going through, that he wasn't quite himself, but he couldn't let Raph talk to the Master like that! Powered by his fury, he kicked out, slamming the wooden door open. Before Raph quite knew what was happening, Leo had crossed the room, seized his shoulder in one hand, and delivered a stinging slap with the other. It wasn't the way he usually confronted someone, but this was his brother, and he was acting like an ass, besides. _Dammit! Wake up and think about what you're saying!_

For an infintisimal moment, Raph stood silent, as if uncomprehending of what Leo had done. Then, with a sudden burst of fury, he lashed out. Leo was totally unprepared for the punches to the abdoman and face that left him momentarily doubled over in pain, leaving Raph the time to grab his bag and swing himself onto the fire escape. Unheeding of Splinter's order to stop, he was down and gone before the others had fully entered the room. Splinter stood with Leo, who was rapidly recovering, as Mike and Don sped to the window and looked for a sign of Raph's passing. There were none. Splinter was furious, and Leo bowed his head in shame. He had deserved to be hit...He had screwed up the Master's balancing act, totally blown it, driven Raph away. None of them knew when, if ever, he would be back.

*-----*-----*

Raph sat on the edge of the back road, under the bright moon which hung icily in the sky. He waited. In his bag was a refraction chip...the alien Zarik had told him that it reflected the moons rays out through the atmosphere in a clearly identifiable pattern. Raph did not know or care how this technology worked. All that mattered was that soon Zarik or one of his kind would arrive with a ship to take him far, far away from this damned planet.

As he waited for the distant alien ship, he stared at the photograph in his hands. It had been taken in happier times, on no special occassion, just a get-together of the whole gang. Raph and Don were both there, with all the X-men and their families. Raph rubbed his thumb over their faces...Jean, Scott, Logan, Ororo, Remy.....Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he remembered once again the way each of them had been. Raph rose to his feet, and in one smooth, angry motion, he flung the picture as hard as he could. It struck a large rock across the road from him. The frame twisted, the picture tore, and the glass split and shattered into a thousand different pieces, beyond all hopes of repair.

* * *

# Part 4: Through the soft, brown earth that holds him.

Don stood, arms behind his back, just outside the doorway to the room where the bodies were laid. The state funeral offered for Professor Xavier for his great work in genetics and mutant rights activism had been rejected; the X-men would take this final trip together with their mentor and friend. Don had helped plan the funeral with the families. He had been surprised to find that he had been named co-executor to many of the wills--and not displeased that his friends had trusted him enough to make him responsible for such a thing, although because Donatello could not meet with lawyers or funeral home workers, a human co-executor had been named as well: Alex Summers. It was ironic that where Don had to be calm and reasoning to perform his duties, he was a psychological mess.

Don felt a hand on his shoulder. Emily. She frowned at him, her green eyes bright. "Uncle Don? Where's Uncle Raph?" So confident, so sure that Raph would be there. _Dammit, Raph! How can you do this to them? They need you now, more than ever, and you aren't here! Selfish, selfish, selfish!_ Don bowed his head. Now it would be him, not Raph, who had to watch Emily's eyes turn dark as she learned of Raphael's betrayal. 

"I-" Don stopped. How to say it? "Raph's not coming." Emily gaped.

"What?"

"He was upset, and he couldn't handle it. So he ran away." Don's voice was heavy with bitterness. _Damn him!_ "Don't cry, Em." He cradled her against his chest. 

"Will he be back?"

"I don't know Em. Maybe. He usually does come back, but he's never been this upset..." Don shook his head. "Let's go." It was almost time for the private funeral to begin. Just the families and close friends, and the minister who would lay their spirits to rest. And Alex had promised that the minister was an honest man; he wouldn't betray Don's secret. Or the X-men's, either. (A Christian burial had been decided upon; those of the X-men who were not Christian were generally atheist, and all had expressed, in their wills, a desire to be buried with the other X-men...Their spouses and children might later join them on in the burial grounds.) Don gently led Emily into the room. The coffins were closed, hiding the terribly mutilated bodies that even morticians couldn't repair. So sad....everyone always had to die. 

Most of the guests were already there, dressed in fancy black clothes. _Sure,_ thought Don, _Let's depress ourselves even more._ He sat with Emily, next to Jeremy. Poor kids. Both their parents dead in one cruel blow. Half the wills had been read already, Scott and Jean's among them, and the twins were to be under Alex's guardianship. They would have to leave the X mansion, but at least they would have a family who cared for them. They were determined to return to Salem Center when they turned eighteen. Stubborn as their parents, Raph would have said. _No!_ Don thought. _Don't think about him! He's gone._ But Don couldn't keep the pain of his brother's desertion away. They all needed Raph here, for support.

The rest of the families straggled in as the minister stepped to the front. Don tried not to meet eyes with anyone; he knew that if he looked at the Professor's widow or kid one more time, he was going to cry. _I must try and be strong._ He had a feeling that if he started crying, he would set off every other person in the room in a chain reaction of sobbing.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of all mercy and the God of all consolation. He comforts us in all our sorrows so that we can comfort others in their sorrows with the consolation we ourselves have received from God." He blinked back tears. _Not already! Stop crying,_ he ordered himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to remain calm as he spoke with the others, "Thanks be to God." He didn't mind the service or the emphasis on God; in fact, he had been baptized into the Lutheran faith a few years before. But of late he had been extremely negligent of his faith. _I shouldn't be,_ he reminded himself, and silently promised to do better.

"When we were baptized in Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefor with him by Baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his." Don had accepted the beliefs of the Lutheran church, namely that the only salvation was through belief in Jesus Christ. What then, happened to those who did NOT believe in Christ? Don considered the people he knew, his brothers especially, who had rejected Christianity....Was hell in store for them? Don didn't like to think about it, and tried to avoid the subject. Especially now, with the X-men dead, the idea seemed grim and worrisome.

There was a movement to Don's left and he saw Jubilee's husband, Jonothan, staring towards the door in the back. The whole room turned to follow his gaze.

Wolverine stood beside the door, in a suit and tie, amazingly, but undeniably alive. Don mouthed his name. He nodded grimly. "Hey, kids," he growled. "Not too late, am I?" Don offered him a seat, but he shook his head. "I'm just fine right here." He nodded to the minister, who swallowed and continued the service: "The Lord be with you."

"And also with you," Don echoes, as he savored his thought: Wolverine, alive! It was almost too good to be true. Or not. Speculation had arisen among the X-men's survivors...who had offed the team on a peaceful night in the mansion? Who had known they would be there, besides the X-men themselves? Was it possible that they had been betrayed from the inside? _No,_ thought Don fiercely. _Wolverine and Gambit couldn't do a thing like that. They wouldn't betray their friends and families._ Even Wolverine, though he had no wife or children, even the X-man who was heralded as having the attitude of a wild animal, would not do such a thing, Don was sure. _Later, you can think about the murderer's identity. Now pay attention._

He tuned out the minister's prayer and sank deeper into his memory...

_("Cripes, I feel like throwin' up," Jubilee moaned. Don was busy, using his teeth to rip a blanket into strips. He crouched next to her in the brush as she held her leg tightly where it had been torn open by the bullet. Don cocked his head. No damn Genoshans had found them yet--but they were in it deep. Where the hell was Cyke with reinforcements?_

Don tried to stay calm as he spoke to the disturbed young woman. "Haven't you ever been shot before?"

"Nah, have you?" Jubilee was experienced in combat, but she had a lot too learn. Don sighed.

"Several times, yes. Not exactly a pleasant experience, I confess, but you must learn to cope somehow." He put down the strips and examined her wound. Then, as her eyes widened, he removed a knife from his belt.

"Hang on--what are you doing?" Jubilee sounded close to panic.

"Have to get the bullet out," Don said calmly. He grimaced. "Wish it was a little more sterile, but this is the best we can do. Hang on, this is gonna hurt like hell." Grimly, he inserted the point of his knife and levered it under the bullet, which fortunately had lodged fairly shallowly. Jubilee gasped and swore at him, but Don ignored her. He had to get this wound bandaged before Jubilee bled to death. Pulling the knife at slight angle, he levered the bullet out of the hole in her leg. Rapidly, Don began to wrap her leg with the blanket strips. He grabbed his knife as a figure burst into the area with a growl, then relaxed. Finally!

"Finally found ya," growled Wolverine. He assessed the situation with one glance. "C'mon, Julilee. I'll get ya back to th' Blackbird.")

Don frowned to himself. He felt a finger in his side. "Don," hissed Emily. She was poking at him urgently. "The eulogy."

Don suddenly felt sick. They had asked him to do the eulogy. (_"Why do I have so many friggin' responsibilities!" Don snarled._

"Because you're responsible. They trusted you, and we trust you, to help when there's trouble. You always have. And we need you; most of us...well, we're too emotional to be much good right now." Alex was calm, assured. He'd always been the volatile one, Scott the calm and commanding. But now Scott was dead, and his little brother had troubles and responsibilities to bear.

"And I'm not?" growled Don. His head was spinning. Everything was up to him! The wills, the bodies, the funeral, and now the eulogy. If not for Alex, he would have gone totally insane.

"You can do it, Don. I myself am glad of it...Keeps my mind off what's really going on," Alex said softly. "You fall apart if you don't have anything to do." Don shrugged.

"I guess."

"Well, then, do it. If you need help, I'm here, and the others are here." Alex touched his shoulder, a warm and confident presence.

Don heaved a sigh. "No, Alex. If I have to do this eulogy, I'm going to do it all by myself.)

Don slowly stood, clutching the papers full of notes with sweaty hands. As he got to the pulpit, the minister stepped aside for him. Gulping with nervousness, he stood in the pulpit, laid his eulogy down, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, _everyone_ was looking at him. He drew in his breath slowly, then exhaled. "Ah-I prepared a eulogy for this...occassion," he began shakily. Then he stared at his eulogy. Last night he had been glad to get something down that looked and sounded halfway decent. But now, reading the words again, they seemed forced, unweildy. Was this really the testimony he wanted to give to the X-men? The last words he would say before they were gone forever? "No," he murmured to himself. Then, aloud, "But I have decided to ad-lib." Without another glance, he turned his sheets of paper over, and began.

"When I met the X-men sixteen years ago, it was not exactly under the best of circumstances. My brothers and I were in Genosha, when the oppressive 'democracy' was still in power. We wanted to do something about it, but even Raphael admitted that frontal assault on the Genoshans, who were highly technologically advanced and well-defended, would be a mistake. Instead, we chose an indirect way of ending the problem; we would return to the U.S. with extensive proof of the oppression of mutants in Genosha, spread it around the media, and wait for the American system to do its work. But the night before we were scheduled to return to the States, guerilla rebels attacked five military installations. All civilian craft were grounded, and the four of us were trapped in a mutant-hating country."

"It was then that we encountered the X-men. The meeting involved myself, an X-man, and a Genoshan soldier. I was on the wrong end of an AK-47, and the Genoshan was holding it. The X-man was Gambit. He saved my life."

"How that conflict was resolved is too long a story to tell now, but suffice it to say that it gave me my first impressions of the X-men: they were brave, courageous, and willing to sacrific themselves to free a country full of people that had no direct impact on their lives. I admired that. And eventually, when we returned to the U.S., I had the opportunity to meet Charles Francis Xavier. Xavier was always a sort of role model for me. I studied genetics and mutants, and his work had always been a source of great interest for me. I also was aware of his humanitarian efforts, and supported his work in mutant rights--for quite obvious reasons."

"So for me, it was a dream come true, a chance to meet someone whom I felt would be one of the great movers of history; a man who pressed other people to action, and who pursued his work as far as humanly possible. Professor Xavier was the man I'd expected in some ways. But in others, I found he was not. Like many people, he had a habit of doing the unexpected or incomprehensible. But never without good reason, because everything he did had a purpose. I liked him from the moment I met him, and I believe he liked me, because a few weeks after we first spoke, he invited me to study with him, along with my brother Raphael."

"Professor Xavier felt that he could help me with what seemed to be an inherant clairvoyant ability. Raph is a telepath and a telekinetic, both powers with which Xavier was very experienced in dealing. I was thrilled to be a part of his school, even if I was only a part-time student, since I chose not to leave my family and live at the school. He was able to help my brother, but unfortunately not me. Despite this, I decided that I could still learn from Professor Xavier. With him I delved deeply into genetics, and into the study of mutant powers. But he did more than just teach me science and theory. He instilled in me a sense of his dream: that all mutants and humans could live peacefully together."

"I think that this is a dream which all people have. Some subdue it, some pervert to match their own goals, some just dream about it all their lives and never act to fulfill it. But Xavier was different. He was the first person to let the world know that it WAS possible, that mutant-human peace was a realistic goal. That's something that all of us can understand, having lived and worked with the X-men. That peace was no dream, it was a reality, and it was coming soon. That's the hope we lived for, still live for. That's the hope that we will have until the day we see it come true."

"The X-men always believed that. That hope for peace was what they dedicated themselves to serve when the first joined Xavier's school. The X-men spent their entire lives trying to solve the mutant-human problem. They attended countless state dinners, diplomatic meetings, and peace treaty signings. But they didn't back out when things got harder. No, they were willing to _risk their lives_ for OUR sake; for the sake of every single person on the planet, on the offchance that the battle they were fighting would convince the world that mutants weren't so bad after all, and that the dream was still worth fighting for. And for all the years I've known them, they've held on."

"I can't say they've never faltered or had trouble; because they have, and there have been occassions when they fell, and fell hard. I saw those times, and the X-men survived them. And over the years, as Raph and I grew closer to these extraordinary people, I was proud to be an honorary X-man, to serve the dream along with the rest of them. I was proud to be a part of the love, the hope, and the honor that made the X-men what they were; and what they still are."

"I don't know anything about life after death. I don't know if the X-men are now dwelling on another plane of existance. What I do know is that the X-men were more than the few wonderful people who we honor here today; they were the dream of a better, more peaceful future. And while we can honor those who died while still trying to fulfill that dream, we cannot honor the dream itself; because _it_ is not dead. The dream is still good; it is a part of us. And as long as one person who believes in it still lives, the dream lives. And through the dream, the X-men, too, will live on."

Don was in a fog as he stepped down from the pulpit, breathing heavily, and almost sick with sadness. Through his haze, he saw Erica, holding him at arms length. Tears were running down her cheeks. "Oh, Don," she whispered to him. "Thank you." He hugged her, and both found that they were crying helplessly, with great heaving sobs that left them hollow. They didn't know if anyone else was crying, and they didn't care. All that mattered was the bond they felt growing between them, even as they laid Erica's husband to rest.

So sunk was he in his own emotions was he that he didn't notice Emily standing at the pulpit until she began to speak. "I wrote a poem," she said softly. "To read. For my parents...and the others." She bit her lip and began to read off a sheet of paper. "Darkened Roads."

"A lonely trumpet toots its last,  
The day has come to end,  
And now the trumpet sounds its note,  
The wearied souls to send.  
Off to the longest rest of all,  
They move without a cry,  
But only go, not wondering,  
Why they should have to die.  
  
Some are there that died too young,  
Their lives were not half lived.  
But some are old, and go in peace,  
Their murders they forgive.  
All were brave and true and loved,  
Their work would make us free,  
To live a life as equals of  
A kind humanity.  
  
But now they're gone, we must adjust,  
To live without them near,  
For though they have their peace at last,  
We must endure life here.  
But as we traverse darkened roads,  
Be comforted, my friends.  
For those who've died still live with us,  
Until our own road ends."

Emily almost ran back to her seat to hug Jeremy and Don close to her, tears running down her cheeks. "It was beautiful, Em," whispered Don in her ear as he stroked her hair. "They'd be so proud of you; they always were." Emily nodded through her tears, sat back into her seat. Don bowed his head again as the minister stepped back to his place, wiping away his own tears as he resumed the service.

He skipped over some of the more conventional parts of the service; the creed, the lessons, the gospel, and the sermon. Instead, he began the prayers. Mechanically, Don followed along in his hymnal, taking his cues from the rest of the company, chanting "Hear us, Lord," after each prayer.

Finally, the preacher stood to read the commendation over each of the coffins. "Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant, Charles Francis Xavier. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen." Again, talk of heaven. Don tried to put it aside, but he cried silently as he prayed for it to be over. Gladly, he went forward with most of the other family members present. His stomach turned as he lifted a coffin; he didn't know which X-man lay inside it, and didn't want to. Jeremy and Alex exchanged sympathetic looks with him. Jonothan rubbed his shoulder comfortingly as he passed by. Then, they proceeded out to the hearses.

The drive to the large burial plot on Xavier land was totally silent.

Once there, they were all silent underneath the unyielding sky, on the cold, hard, barren earth. _How appropriate,_ Don thought cynically. _Even in their death, the entire planet rejects them._ Hank McCoy's son James read aloud a lesson from the Bible, something about eternal life. Then the minister spoke up again. _Oh, God,_ Don thought. _Get me through this._ Each of the bodies would have to be commited individually, and Don did not know how much longer he'd be able to deal with his overwhelming urge to break down and scream.

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to almighty God our brother, Charles Francis Xavier, and we commit his body to the elements; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine on him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and give him peace. Amen." Don helped to shovel the dirt back into the dark holes, covering the coffins which contained the bodies of his friends. The enormity of it was too much to comprehend. His mind was a blur as the other commitals proceeded. When her father's name was read, Emily clung to Don with a sob, but he was barely conscious of her presence.

With the final "Let us go in peace," the service was over, and the gathering began to disperse. Don crouched in the center of the burial plot, unheeding pleas for him to come inside, it was too bloody cold out for this. Finally, Alex said, "Let him alone," and they did.

Donatello sat there, lost within himself, with his own silent prayer.

The Lord bless them and keep them.

The Lord make his face to shine on them and be gracious to them.

The Lord look upon them with favor and give them peace.

Peace, indeed. Don started back to his car for the long drive home.

* * *

# Part 5: Forever, always young.

Don stood under the lamppost on 9th street. It was strangely deserted, even for this time of night. Don checked his watch. Almost midnight. He pulled the note out of his pocket and read it through for the thousandth time. "_Donatello: I urgently need to meet with you. Corner of 9th and Brooksfield. Midnight. Tell no one._" The note was unsigned, and underneath his winter jacket, Don carried a gun. It was a less conventional form of arm for a ninja, and Spliner would NOT have approved. But when attending secret meetings with strangers in the witching hour, it was best to take precautions. A would-be assassin would fear a gun more than a bo.

Suddenly, a figure materialized in the edge of the lamp's glow. The person was heavily muffled with trenchcoat and scarf, and it carried a bundle against its chest. Don felt for his gun. "Who are you? What's this all about?" he demanded.

"Relax, mon ami," came the familiar voice. "Don' want to draw 'tention to me."

"Gambit!" gasped Don, startled. The last missing X-man! Here, in New York? Of course, what better place to hide? But why hide at all?

"Sh, Don. De murderers not gone yet." Gambit's voice was muffled, as though his mouth was covered.

"What do you mean?"

"Dey huntin' Gambit. I not caught yet, but dey don' give up."

"Why are we here? What did you want from me?"

"Gambit's son all he got lef'," Gambit said softly. "Don' want Bobby to get hurt in dis mess."

"Are you saying--"

"Take Gambit's son off-world, Don."

"But--" Don's head whirled. He wanted to help his friend, but how could he just leave Earth, go off on his own? "Gambit, it's not that simple. I don't have any money that's not worthless off-world. Where do I go? How do I take care of a kid with no money?"

"Money not important. Go to Lilandra, de Shi'ar empress. Tell her 'bout Xavier, she'll take care o' you."

"I don't know, Gambit...Couldn't you take him?"

Gambit's voice was suddenly harsh. "Gambit gotta keep de killers busy. If Gambit take Bobby, killers find him and kill dem. But if you take him off-world, even if dey kill Gambit, dey never find Bobby." It did make sense. Gambit was just looking after his kid the best way he knew how. "Gambit ask you for a favor, mon ami. Saved your life once, you said dat one day you pay me back. Gambit wants to call in de favor. Take Bobby and go."

Gambit was right. He HAD saved Don's life, he did owe Gambit a great debt. And could he really let Bobby die or let Gambit down, just because he was afraid to leave Earth behind? "I--I'll take him, Gambit. I will do as you ask."

He could hear Gambit's sigh of relief as he handed over the bundle in his arms. "T'ank you, mon ami. If Gambit lives, Gambit never forget dis."

"You're welcome, old friend," Don said softly, as he cradled the infant in his arms. The former X-man melted into the shadows as swiftly as any trained theif. Don gazed after him, hoping to hell that Gambit would be all right. "And Godspeed to you as well."


End file.
